BATMAN BEYOND: The Second Rebirth
by RosenDrache
Summary: A sequel to Reunited, set one year later. UPDATED - CHAPTER 7 POSTED: Melanie comes face to face with her first major opponent at the site of a break-in, and it is the last one she expected to see... Rated T.
1. 01: The Accident, Part 1

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **Guess who's back, gang?  
>First off, I want to thank everyone who took the time to read my <em>Batman Beyond <em>romance fic, _Reunited. _And I especially want to thank everyone who took the time to post their reviews.

I say this, because if you are reading this and haven't yet read _Reunited..._Well, I would encourage you to read it. Because this story is a direct sequel to it, picking up approximately one year later, and detailing the next step in the evolution of the relationship between Terry and Melanie. Note that while _Reunited _was first and foremost a romance, this story is not; it's more of an action/adventure story.  
>That being said, if you haven't read <em>Reunited<em> yet, definitely do so. If you already have, well thank you, and I hope you enjoy this next one.

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><p><strong>BATMAN BEYOND:<br>The Second Rebirth  
>Chapter 1<strong>

It was still early evening, and the sun hadn't set yet. But most of Gotham already lay under a deep twilight, and the cars Terry McGinnis saw, far below him, were already driving with their headlights on. Night came early, he thought, in the shadow of the tall steel-and-concrete skyscrapers that made up much of Gotham.

Still, from his vantage point at the top of one of, if not the single tallest building in the city he commanded an amazing view of almost the entire city.

"Funny, how peaceful it looks from up here - especially during the day." He muttered.

- "Looks can be deceiving." Bruce Wayne commented dryly, and Terry nodded. Then he turned away from the window and looked back inside the enormous top-floor office of the Wayne Tower, headquarters of Wayne Technologies, Inc. - WayneTech, in the vernacular.

The office had changed very little over the years, even from the days when it had been the domain of Derek Powers, owner and CEO of Wayne-Powers. With Powers presumably dead and his equally crooked son Paxton in prison, Wayne had, a few years earlier, reacquired ownership of the company at the cost of every single penny of his own personal fortune. Then, over time he had not only led the rechristened company to a height of success it had not known in decades, but he had also completely rebuilt that personal fortune.

Whereas at the time of his return to the company he had no personal money to speak of - all of his assets, except for a modest pension, tied into the company - Bruce Wayne's personal net worth was now conservatively estimated as just south of twenty-six billion. And with the recently-announced merger of WayneTech and its closest business ally, Foxteca, analysts expected that number to continue to rise rapidly.

Terry looked up as the private elevator that led up to the office opened, and two men stepped into the office, heading for Wayne's desk.  
>The first man - an African-American who looked to be in his mid-sixties, portly and balding, with a thick mustache and a genial expression on his face - was a stranger to Terry.<br>The second, slightly younger, but with a full head of steel-grey hair, Terry recognized instantly.

"Terry," Bruce announced, standing up and walking around his desk to personally shake the first man's hand. "I want you to meet the two people who are going to be most important to the continued success of the company. Lucius Fox, Junior…and Tim Drake."

Terry stepped forward, and shook Fox's hand.  
>- "Lucius will handle the running of the company on a day-to-day basis as Vice-President, reporting to me. Lucius, Terry is my…personal assistant." Bruce explained vaguely, and Fox merely smiled.<p>

- "A pleasure to meet you, young man." Fox said jovially. Then he turned to Wayne. "You know, it's really good being back here again."

- "I want to thank you, for being onboard with this merger." Wayne said. "Especially since…"

Fox shook his head impatiently.  
>- "It wasn't you that fired me, Mr. Wayne, it was that slime Powers." He said. "That's why I started Foxteca - to stay true to what you and my father taught me."<p>

- "Your father always called me by my name, Lucius." Bruce said, and Terry saw that he was grateful to the younger man nonetheless. "I'd appreciate it if you did the same."

- "If you insist, Bruce. Thanks for letting me have my old office back, too."

Wayne nodded. Then turned to the other man and shook his hand too. Terry did likewise.

- "Terry, you've already met Tim." He said, and both nodded. "He's coming onboard to handle the company's security, as well as to manage our computer systems."

- "Good to see you again, kid." Tim said to Terry, who nodded. Then Tim turned to Bruce. "You too, old man."  
>From anyone else, the expression would've been disrespectful, but Bruce said nothing - he merely nodded.<p>

- "It's good to have you back, Tim." He said quietly, and the three men - Wayne, Terry, and Drake - all understood what Bruce really meant by that statement.

Wayne returned to his seat, and Lucius and Tim sat in armchairs on the opposite side of the enormous desk as they discussed the next step in the integration process of what was now going to be called Wayne-Fox Technologies, Incorporated.

After a while, Drake stood.  
>- "If that's all," he said, "I need to finish setting up my office."<p>

- "Of course," Bruce nodded, and Drake left without another word.

Terry tuned out for a bit, staring out the window again as Wayne and Fox continued their meeting, until finally the latter stood up, and left after shaking Wayne's hand again.

Once he was gone, Terry stepped forward again, looking back at the closed doors of the elevator.  
>Then he turned to the old man.<p>

"I'm kind of surprised, Mr. Wayne." he commented. The old man looked at him with a raised eyebrow, and Terry thought to himself that, in the understated opulence of the enormous office instead of the perpetual twilight of the Batcave, he still looked exactly the same, leaning back in a comfortable chair as he surveyed his domain.

- "About what?" He asked.

- "I mean, Mr. Fox I can kinda understand," Terry started, "given that WayneTech and Foxteca are the same company now. But Tim Drake? After everything that went down, I figured he'd never want to get within ten miles of you, never mind set foot inside the building."

Bruce nodded curtly - the kid had a point. It had taken a lot of persuasion to convince Tim to come aboard, but he'd first reached out after the Joker debacle three and a half years earlier, and slowly had tried to mend things - a first, for him.

This - coming here, to WayneTech - Wayne-Fox Technologies, now - had been the hardest part.  
>"Other than Barbara - and maybe your friend Max - Tim is the best there is where computers and security systems are concerned." Bruce said firmly. "Better than anyone I've ever seen - and for Wayne-Fox, I wanted the best there is."<p>

_'Oh, where security systems are concerned, I can think of one person who might be better even than them.' _Terry thought to himself, hiding his amusement behind an impassive mask.

"Okay, fair enough." He said. "But how'd you even get him to agree to come onboard - I mean, last I talked to him, it sounded like he hated you."

- "I agreed to pay him double what he made at his previous job, and to put his kid through college." Wayne replied gruffly. "I also gave him stock in the company. And I promised him he would never have to go _anywhere _near _anything_ with a cape."

- "What cape?" Terry joked, and Bruce just shook his head without replying. Terry understood perfectly well what he'd meant, and they both knew it.

"But man…If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were getting sentimental in your old age." Terry continued, tongue-in-cheek to the last. "I mean, the merger with Foxteca - bringing back Mr. Fox; now bringing in Tim Drake. Next thing you know, you'll be mending fences with Dick Grayson, too."

- "Maybe…" Bruce commented. He hadn't reached out to Dick yet. He knew Dick, like Barbara here in Gotham, had risen to command the Blüdhaven P.D.

But there had been so much bad blood between them, and their last parting had been…to call it _bitter _would be massively understating it. But maybe Terry was right. Maybe it was time to mend things with him, too.

Soon afterwards, Wayne stood and intimated to his "assistant" that it was time to leave. Terry followed half a step behind the old man until they reached the parking garage, where a sleek, low-slung dark blue limousine waited. Terry opened the car's rear door, and Bruce eased himself in with only the slightest difficulty.

Then the door was closed, Terry got into the driver's seat, and pulled the car out of its spot with a practiced ease that said he had done it numerous times before.

Once they were out of the building, he gunned the powerful car down the street and drove them through and out of the city, until they reached the gates of Wayne Manor.

The gates opened noiselessly as the limousine approached. A quarter of a mile later, the car was parked, and the two were on their way in.

"Need anything else tonight, sir?" Terry asked.

- "Keep your phone close by." Wayne said shortly. "I'll call you if I do."

"Yes, sir." Terry replied, and he left, taking a moment to pat the 150-pound Ace affectionately on the head before making his way out the door to the sleek, powerful motorcycle he rode.

He retrieved the same helmet he always wore, put it on, and started the bike, which came to life with a deep, rumbling growl. Then the single powerful headlight snapped on, and the bike roared down the quarter-mile drive and out the reinforced steel gates, which slid noiselessly shut behind him.

* * *

><p>As Terry rode, he kept his attention on the road in front of him and the cars around him. Nonetheless he found himself thinking about the old man, and the undercurrent of tension that persisted between them.<p>

It had all started the previous winter, when he and Melanie reconnected. Wayne didn't trust Melanie, didn't trust that she had changed, that her previous life - as Ten of the Royal Flush Gang - was over. They had argued a couple of times, but the worst one had been when Wayne had learned that Terry had told Melanie the whole truth about who and what he was.

The old man had been livid, and so angry...rarely had Terry seen him get that pissed off. But Terry stood his ground, as he had before when the subject was mentioned. After that day, Wayne had never mentioned the subject again, but things were still tense. Terry chose to leave well enough alone.

One day, he hoped, Wayne would understand. Not that he'd ever admit to having been wrong, Terry thought ruefully.

As for Melanie, the two of them were now living together on the Gotham State University campus, and she was now attending classes full-time. This meant, of course, that she had to work more often nights and week-ends. But that was all right. And then once a month, his mother still held their usual family days, and Melanie was always there.

Tonight would be the first time they had an evening to themselves for nearly a month, and Terry had made plans accordingly. Which is why he was now heading not for his mother's or the university, but for Deckard's Kitchen, where Melanie still worked. They had agreed to meet there, and would leave once she had finished her shift for the day.

He was almost at his destination, and slowed down as he neared an intersection. The light turned green as he approached, and he gunned the bike through the crossing.

That was when the car hit.

Terry didn't see it, didn't realize what was coming until he heard a sudden screech of brakes, as a car ran the red light and tried to swerve to avoid the bike that was still just crossing the intersection. Too late, and too close.

Terry felt sudden, agonizing pain in his leg as its fender slammed into the back third of the bike, and he screamed in pain.

The momentum of the collision shoved the rear wheel out to the side, nearly snapping the rear axle off and completely throwing off the bike's balance.

Incredibly, its own momentum kept the bike moving forward for perhaps another half a second, even as it keeled over sideways, throwing off Terry as it fell. The bike slid a few feet down the asphalt with a grinding of metal until it finally stopped.

Terry hit the ground hard a few feet from the twisted remains of his bike, and felt a sudden, sharp pain in his head before everything went black.

**TO BE CONTINUED...**


	2. 02: The Accident, Part 2

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **How's that for a cliffhanger, huh?  
>Well, no need to fret, because here's the next part :P<p>

* * *

><p><strong>BATMAN BEYOND:<br>The Second Rebirth  
>Chapter 2<strong>

The day had begun like any other for nineteen-year-old Melanie Walker. She had woken up early and showered, gotten dressed. Then, she had gone to work.

She had secured a grant that had allowed her to make the move to full-time student at Gotham State University, although her classes were almost exclusively morning or early afternoon classes, so that she could work afternoons and nights. As a result she had been forced to cut back slightly on her hours, but she usually tried to work at least partway through most school holidays, to make up for that. And she usually worked one day on weekends as well, which was why she was here on a Saturday evening.

The big digital clock in the back of the kitchen kept ticking the minutes, and with each one that passed, she was more and more eagerly anticipating the end of her shift. Not that she didn't mind working at the Kitchen - it was good, honest work, and it paid her bills. However, this evening was special, because it was one of the rare evenings she would not be working.

Her schedule wasn't the only thing that had changed in the past year; her living arrangements had as well.  
>Since moving back to Gotham after getting out on parole, she had lived in a dingy one-bedroom flat in one of the seedier neighborhoods of downtown Gotham City, not far from the Kitchen. The lease had expired six months earlier, and she had not renewed it.<br>Instead, she now lived with Terry on the university campus, and they split the cost of housing between the two of them. Despite this, between their classes and respective jobs, they didn't have a lot of time to themselves, and so she cherished every second that she could spend with him.

Tonight would be one such occasion; With how busy they both had been, it had been several weeks since they had been able to spend an evening together, just to themselves. She had no idea what he had planned for this evening, but she was eagerly anticipating it. Especially since he was going to be picking him up.

Any minute now, he would pull up to the restaurant on his motorcycle, parking it just outside. He would walk in through the door, and then as soon as her shift was ended, they would leave together.

He usually picked her up on evenings they were going to be going out together.

She often worried about Terry, because his job was so dangerous. But he could take care of himself.

The TV in the corner of the diner was on, but she wasn't paying too much attention. It was turned to a local news channel, which had been reporting on the biggest announcement of the day - the WayneTech/Foxteca merger - and she had caught a glimpse, when the story broke, of Bruce Wayne as he arrived at the tall (even by Gotham's standards) skyscraper that was the Gotham-based multinational's headquarters, flanked by Foxteca's CEO. And she had allowed herself a small smile when she saw Terry standing just a few feet behind them.

But that had been hours earlier. Still, the merger was the biggest story of the day, and most networks were talking of nothing else.

Melanie was washing dishes in the kitchen, so she wasn't paying attention to the TV. She thought of Jack, as she often did when dishwashing duties fell to her.  
>She had been crossing from the sink to put away a stack of dishes she had just finished washing and drying, when she heard Cal, the floor manager, speak up as he glanced at it.<p>

"Man, that's some accident," he commented, "and it looks like it's just a few blocks from here."

She looked up. The news anchor, in his usual bland monotone, was reporting a vehicular collision - and she saw that Cal was right: she recognized that intersection, which was on the way from the restaurant to her former flat.

She saw a red car, its front end damaged on one side where it had hit. The anchor reported that the driver, who was intoxicated, had been arrested. Then she saw the vehicle it had hit, which was not another car, but a sleek, high-powered motorcycle, its color a distinctive pale blue-violet.

And when she saw it, the blood drained from her face.

The dishes fell to the floor and shattered at her feet with a loud crash.

Cal turned at the noise, as did several other people. And when he saw the deathly pallor, the horrified expression on Melanie's face, he became instantly concerned.

"Hey Mel, are you...?" He started to ask, but she did not hear the rest of the question. She ran, bursting through the kitchen and crossing the restaurant.  
>She shouldered the door open, turned, and started running up the block, ignoring the yells from Cal, who had followed.<p>

She sprinted up the street, and as she neared the intersection she saw that GCPD cruisers had blocked the intersection on all four sides, and she saw an ambulance was there. She kept running, and as she approached, one of the cops saw her.

"Hey, Miss. You can't..."

Ignoring the cop's protest, she slammed her palm flat on the metal front of the cruiser and vaulted over it, landing in a crouch on the other side, and by the time the cop had walked around the cruiser, she was already on her feet and running towards the ambulance.

The back of the ambulance was open, and paramedics were busy around a body in the street.

_ "TERRY!"_ she screamed when she caught a glimpse of the familiar dark brown jacket.

She tried to draw closer, but suddenly felt a viselike grip on her shoulder. She turned to find herself facing a woman who looked to be in her mid-thirties, slightly taller than her and wearing GCPD uniform. She was olive-skinned, with black hair and keen, dark eyes.

"Let 'em do their job, kid." she said firmly. She spoke with a slight, almost musical lilt.

Meanwhile, the paramedics very carefully placed Terry on the stretcher. His helmet had been removed, and he was covered in blood. Within moments, he'd been loaded onto the ambulance, and the paramedics hopped in the back with him. The door slammed shut, and with its lights flashing and sirens blaring, the ambulance took off.

Melanie stood immobile, watching the white-and-red vehicle until it disappeared down the street.

"You know him?" The cop asked, and Melanie could only nod. Then the cop turned away for a moment to address the others, before stepping towards the cruiser. "Hop in. I'll give you a lift to the hospital." She said.

Despite an innate distrust of Gotham's Finest - due, of course, to a long history of avoiding them, in the old days - Melanie could not help but think that this thirty-something officer was someone she could trust.  
>She followed, climbing into the passenger's seat as the cop entered the driver's side. Then the vehicle tore off after the ambulance.<p>

"Thank you." Melanie said hesitantly. The cop nodded. Then Melanie saw a photograph fixed to the dashboard. A woman wearing civilian attire, but with a badge pinned to her belt, a young child next to her.

- "Is that you?" she asked.

- "With my mother," the cop answered, and Melanie realized with a start that the cop was the child in the picture. "She's the reason I became a cop."

Funny, Melanie thought, how that sometimes happened.  
>It could have happened with her and her mother, too...if things had been different. She did not regret that it had not, though she regretted the estrangement from her mother, sometimes.<p>

"I'm Elena." The cop said. "Officer Elena Montoya."

- "Melanie Walker." She answered, and she saw the flash of recognition in the cop's eyes, though she said nothing.

- "Is he your boyfriend?" she asked, referring to Terry, and Melanie nodded.

- "He was going to pick me up from work - we were going to go out tonight."

Elena made no further attempt at conversation, and soon they arrived at the hospital. Melanie thanked the cop again as she stepped out, and was heading towards the door when she heard a frantic voice cry out her name.

She turned at the sound of the voice, and immediately recognized Terry's mother running towards her, looking completely distraught.  
>- "Mrs. McGinnis!" Melanie exclaimed.<p>

- "The hospital called me at work, and I came over right away." Mary said. "Do you...?"

- "The accident wasn't far from the Kitchen, so I ran over. When I arrived, the ambulance was just leaving." Melanie said, leaving out her glimpse of Terry, unconscious and covered in blood. "Then I got a ride to the hospital...but I don't know."

She saw her own fear mirrored in Mary's expression, and the two women entered the hospital.  
>The attendant at the desk informed them that Terry was in surgery, and still worried, they both sat down to wait.<p>

"What about Matt?" Melanie asked after a while.

- "I called Helen and asked her to pick him up. He'll spend the evening at their house; I'll pick him up tonight, or tomorrow morning."

- "Okay." Melanie said quietly.  
>They sat in tense, fearful silence, waiting for some word, some indication that Terry would be okay. The alternative...Melanie refused to contemplate it.<br>How bad would his injuries be? What would it mean for his job?

Finally, hours later a tall, grave-looking older man wearing a long white coat stepped towards them. He was broad, with sharp features, and brown hair that was starting to gray at the temples, and a kindly expression.  
>"Mrs. McGinnis?" He asked, and Mary stood. "I'm Doctor Elliot."<p>

- "How is he?" She asked immediately, fear and worry etched on her face.

- "Still unconscious, but he is out of surgery and stable, for now." Doctor Elliot replied.

- "Is he going to be all right?" she insisted.

- "At this stage, I am afraid it's too early to say for certain." Doctor Elliot replied. "He's lost a lot of blood, and his injuries were extremely severe; a compound fracture to the left leg being the most serious. Although he also suffered a fracture of the right forearm and a couple of cracked ribs. There were some fairly severe lacerations, and he suffered some mild head trauma - a concussion."

Mary gasped. She was white as a sheet, horrified at the extent of Terry's injuries. Melanie was at her side, and Doctor Elliot continued, his tone reassuring.  
>"Honestly, it could have been much worse - the head trauma, while a concern, is surprisingly mild given the nature of the accident."<p>

- "He...he always wore a helmet." Mary replied in a feeble voice.

- "Well, that helmet probably saved his life." Elliot replied reassuringly. "A crash like that could have killed him; he's very lucky to be alive. Obviously, we're going to be keeping a very close eye on him, but barring any complications, he should be all right."

Melanie let out a breath she hadn't even realized she'd been holding, and finally Mrs. McGinnis seemed to relax, though she was still very pale.  
>- "Oh, thank God." she exclaimed. Still...his injuries were so severe...she was still worried.<p>

- "Your son's in good hands, Mrs. McGinnis. You should head home. We'll call you if there's any change."

- "Thank you, Doctor." Mary said tremulously. The doctor bade them both good night and turned away, and they slowly, reluctantly left.

- "Melanie," Mary asked as they crossed the threshold and headed towards the parking lot, "I can drop you off at the dorm if you would like. Or would you mind spending the night at the apartment - you could sleep in Terry's room. I can drop you off at the campus in the morning."

Melanie hesitated. Then she hugged Terry's mother, as if she were her own - which she might as well have been.  
>- "Thank you." she said gratefully.<p>

They drove slowly from Gotham General back to the McGinnis residence.  
>It was late, but Melanie fixed them both a light supper, which they ate in silence before Mrs. McGinnis went to bed.<p>

Melanie made her way to Terry's room. There, she took off her clothes and slipped into the single bed, remembering the last time she had slept in this particular bed almost a year earlier. The recollection set her heart racing, as it usually did.  
>But on this night, she lay awake long into the night before finally falling into a troubled sleep...<p> 


	3. 03: The Decision

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **And here is the next chapter.

* * *

><p><strong>BATMAN BEYOND:<br>The Second Rebirth  
>Chapter 3<strong>

Melanie woke with a start the following morning, and experienced a moment of confusion as she looked around and did not immediately recognize where she was. She looked around and realized that she was in Terry's bedroom at Mrs. McGinnis's apartment.

She checked the alarm clock on the nightstand and saw that it was almost ten o'clock.  
><em>'Well, that's all right,' <em>she thought, stretching languidly as she stepped out of bed. _'It's Sunday - I don't have any classes, and I don't have to work today.' _

Still, she was troubled. Today, she was not supposed to have awoken alone. Terry should have been there. She felt dread like a weight in the pit of her stomach as the previous day's events came back to her. The accident. The hospital.

_'Terry...'_ she thought, remembering her last sight of him.  
>He was at the hospital, unconscious, with his right arm and left leg broken, plus other injuries. The Doctor had said he would make it, but Melanie was still worried, and probably would continue to worry until Terry was back on his feet and out of the hospital for good.<p>

She shivered, though the temperature was mild.  
>"Get ahold of yourself, Melanie." She told herself, as she climbed out of the bed.<br>The first thing she had to do was to call the Kitchen, which she did immediately. She spoke with Cal, who was relieved that she was okay, and explained the situation.  
>That accomplished, she set about getting herself ready.<p>

It now occurred to her that she had nothing to wear except her uniform, but when she stepped outside she found a rather nice green blouse and navy-blue pencil skirt on a clothes hanger on the doorknob.

_'What?...' _she wondered.

"If you want to wash those clothes you were wearing yesterday, I'm going to be doing the laundry this afternoon." she heard Mary McGinnis say from the kitchen. "Since I doubt you have anything else to wear, I can lend you some of mine for the day. It might not quite fit, but..."

She looked up, and saw Mrs. McGinnis was in the kitchen. Melanie noticed that her eyes were red and swollen, and she looked like she hadn't slept well.  
><em>'Well,'<em> she thought, _'neither did I.'_

_-_ "Thank you," she said gratefully, touched by the kindness of the gesture.  
>Carefully picking up the hanger, she slipped into the bathroom and took a shower. Then she showered, got dressed, and stepped out into the living room.<p>

As she did so, the phone rang.

McGinnis residence." Mary said flatly as soon as she picked up the phone.

- "Good morning, Ms. McGinnis." a deep, male voice said. She recognized the voice fairly quickly, and wondered why she had not expected the call. More to the point, she wondered why Wayne hadn't called the previous day. "Is Terry there?"

- "Good morning, Mr. Wayne." Mary said, and she was surprised to see a momentary frown on Melanie's face when she heard the name. A second later, it was gone.  
>The next few minutes, however, were a more pressing concern, and she hesitated a second, unsure of how to say it. She finally decided to just say it plainly. "Terry…was in a rather bad motorcycle accident yesterday. He's in the hospital."<p>

There was silence on the line for several moments, as Bruce Wayne processed what he had just heard and its implications.  
>- "I am…very sorry to hear that." He said slowly, making an effort to keep his voice calm. "How is he?" He asked, and Mary McGinnis heard a note of genuine concern in the old man's voice.<p>

- "When we left the hospital last night, he was stable, but had not regained consciousness." She answered. "However, the doctor was confident that he should be okay."

- "I see." Wayne said. "I'm sorry - I'm sure this must be difficult for you. But if it's not too much trouble, could you let me know if you hear anything?"

- "Of course." She said. "Good day, Mr. Wayne."  
>The old man thanked her, and it struck her as strange that - for an employer - Mr. Wayne seemed unduly concerned about Terry. But then again, she thought, Terry was no ordinary employee, was he?<p>

* * *

><p>Bruce Wayne slowly lowered the phone and set it down in its cradle, then leaned back in his deep, high-backed armchair.<br>He was worried.

"Damn it." He swore under his breath. Terry in the hospital, unconscious, after a motorcycle accident. That meant that Batman was out of commission.

Although medecine had come a long way in the past few decades, depending on the severity of his injuries Terry could be out of commission for weeks, if not a month or more. And that was an unacceptable situation - Batman could NOT be out of action that long, not in this city.

Bruce knew his time as Batman had long passed - his heart could no longer support such exertion. Terry was Batman now.  
>Unfortunately, Terry was out, and there was nobody else whom Bruce Wayne trusted to undertake this mission. Certainly not that friend of Terry's, Max - who while she knew and understood the importance of what they did, in Bruce's view lacked the discipline to be reliably counted on to assume the role.<p>

For a moment, he considered asking his old friend Clark Kent to lend a hand, but dismissed the thought almost immediately. Clark knew and liked Terry - which was fine, but Clark liked most everyone he met in their business. More importantly, Clark trusted Terry, and he owed them for the entire Starro affair a few years earlier.

He could have called in that favor. Besides, Clark was one of very, very few people still living whom Bruce trusted completely, though they didn't always get along. But upon reflexion, he decided not to.

He would have to think very, very carefully about what he would do...

* * *

><p>Melanie spent the rest of the day with Mary McGinnis as well as Matt, whom they picked up from the Bertinellis', where he'd spent the night. Despite their worry about Terry, it was a pleasant experience, and that evening when Mrs. McGinnis dropped her off on campus, she felt a little better.<p>

When she arrived at the dorm that evening, her eyes fell on the worn dark brown backpack that lay in a corner of the bedroom, which she knew belonged to Terry. And she knew what it contained.

She had long since come to terms with the fact that Terry was Batman; he had trusted her with that information, and she repaid his trust by maintaining absolute silence, and by supporting him however she could.  
>She had lost count of the number of times he had come home in the small hours of the morning, tired and carrying new bruises or other injuries, and helped to treat them as best she could.<p>

She also knew that as Batman, he reported to that mean-tempered old bastard Wayne.

She had neither met nor spoken with the old man a single time since that encounter in Vreeland Park the previous year, but knew from conversations with Terry that he continued to remain skeptical of her intentions.

That was fine - like she'd told him, she didn't give a damn what he thought. Terry knew better, and that was all that mattered to her. And in return, she did what she could. But sometimes, she wished that she could do more for him. She wondered what it was like out there.

It was a tempting thought...if Terry couldn't, then maybe...  
>Shaking her head, she dismissed those thoughts and slipped into bed. And soon, she was asleep, thinking of Terry and hoping for his recovery.<p>

* * *

><p>She caught up with Chelsea and Max at lunch the following day.<p>

"Hey, Melanie!" she heard Chelsea hail as she was looking for a seat, and walked over to sit next to her.  
>Max was sitting across from them, and greeted Melanie with a smile.<p>

"Hey, guys." Melanie said.

- "We were just talking about you - hadn't seen you yet today, wondering how you guys were doing." Chelsea said.

- "You okay, girl?" Max asked, sounding concerned. Melanie's eyes were red, and to Max's eye her smile seemed slightly forced, as if she was trying to look happier than she felt.

Then there was the fact that Terry was nowhere to be seen, and the two were usually inseparable.  
>She had heard something over the week-end and thought she might know what have happened, but she wasn't sure.<p>

- "I'm fine." Melanie answered. "I'm just...a little worried about Terry, that's all."

- "Why," Chelsea asked, "what happened? D'you guys have a fight or something?"

- "No, nothing like that." Melanie said. "It's just...there was an accident. Over the week-end. When he was on his way to pick me up at work Saturday night, a car hit his bike."

- "Daaaaamn." Max muttered. Chelsea just looked horrified. "Is Terry...?"

- "He's in the hospital." Melanie answered the unfinished question. "He was hurt pretty badly."

- "Oh, man. Melanie, I'm sorry." she said contritely, "I didn't realize...Do you know if he'll be okay?"

- "I don't know." Melanie said, and her voice shook slightly. "The doctors think he'll be all right, but..."  
>Whatever the doctor had said Saturday night, she was still worried that Terry might not make it, and she didn't know what she would do if she lost him.<p>

Max, for once, was silent. She had heard a news story over the week-end about an accident, and had called Terry's number - with no response.  
>That confirmed what she thought, and she was very worried about Terry, who was one of the best friends she had. For a couple of reasons.<p>

She knew that Melanie knew the truth about what Terry did - the two of them had spoken about it - and Max had warned him, way back when he first introduced her to Melanie, that he should tell her.  
>Two months later, when he had, he had told Max that he'd done so, and about the old man's reaction.<br>Max, of course, had known for years, ever since figuring it out when they were in High School.

She also suspected that Melanie was aware that Max knew as well.  
>- "I guess that means he's not going to be able to work for a while." Max commented, looking at Melanie. "Wonder who's going to tell his boss."<p>

Melanie nodded.

- "He already knows. He found out yesterday." she said without elaborating. "As to what he'll do with Terry in the hospital, I have no idea."

Okay...fair enough." Max commented. "You don't like him much, looks like."

"No, I really don't." She said flatly.  
>Max didn't say anything further on the subject.<p>

That was fine with Melanie, who wasn't all that comfortable discussing Terry's "job" - if you could call being a vigilante who spent most nights pummeling criminals with his bare hands a job.  
>So she changed the subject. "Terry's going to be out for a while, though. Going to need to do something about his classes."<p>

"I've got a lot of classes with him - I'll help out." Max said.

"Thanks." Melanie said.  
>They kept talking for a while, but before long, the three friends had to go their separate ways as they went to their next classes. Melanie had one more class that day, and then she returned home to change, before catching the L train to downtown.<p>

When she arrived at the Kitchen, she got straight to work. She tried not to dwell on Terry's condition, but it was hard not to think about.  
>And it was even harder not to think about the backpack that, even now, sat in their locked apartment...<p>

Melanie was closing that night at the Kitchen, so it was close to midnight by the time she got back to their apartment. During her break, she had called Mrs. McGinnis at home, and found out that there had been no word as yet from the hospital.

'_At least it means there's no bad news.' _she thought.

She dropped her purse on the floor next to the bed, along with her book bag. She had assignments for a couple of her classes, but decided to put them off until the following day.  
>She usually worked only a half-shift on Tuesdays, so she would be able to do them before going in to work, after class.<p>

She was getting ready for bed, and she thought about Terry, in the hospital.  
>She missed him, missed the way he made her feel like everything would be all right, no matter how difficult things got. Then as her mind wandered, and she found herself thinking once again of Terry's job - or rather, his double life as Batman.<p>

She understood double lives better than most - she had lived one herself. And as she lay there thinking, an idea occurred to her again.

Previously, she had dismissed it out of hand, but this time she did not.  
>With Terry wounded, who would do what he did, and could not?<p>

She quietly stole away from their bed until she stood in the corner where his backpack still lay, apparently forgotten.  
>She got down on her knees, opened the bag, and withdrew its contents.<p>

It was a one-piece bodysuit, with a full-face mask attached at the back of the neck - at first glance not unlike the similar garment she had worn as Ten, which she had burned the previous year.  
>Except that it was thicker, the fabric felt heavier, and very slightly stiffer. A belt with a large, round buckle went around the waist. The belt was built into the waist of the suit, and ringed with slender metal containers.<br>The entire thing was black in color, except for the large insignia, bright red, on the upper torso.

She guessed that this apparently innocuous suit was probably far more than it seemed at first glance.

"I wonder what that mean-tempered old bastard would say, if he knew what I was thinking." She muttered, and smiled thinly.  
>That was another part of the reason she had refused to entertain this idea; she didn't want to have to deal with him.<br>But then again...what better way to prove the old bastard wrong once and for all?

No sooner had she slipped it on that she knew she had been right: This thing was far, far more than it first seemed.  
>To her surprise, it fit her perfectly, despite the fact that Terry was a couple of inches taller and a good deal broader than she was. But the suit conformed to her smaller, slighter build like it had been tailored for her.<p>

She spent a few minutes getting used to the fit and how the suit affected her movements.  
>Wide awake now, she carefully opened a window, and slipped outside, sliding the window shut before disappearing into the night.<p> 


	4. 04: Awakening

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **Now comes Chapter 4. Things start to move a little faster here, now...  
>Enjoy<p>

* * *

><p><strong>BATMAN BEYOND:<br>The Second Rebirth  
>Chapter 4<strong>

Over the days that followed, Melanie's routine changed subtly. After night fell, once she was free of other obligations - after completing her shift at the Kitchen, or else once she was done with what work she was doing that day - she put on the suit and slipped away, spending part of the night roaming the streets of the city she called home.

She knew she wasn't as good as Terry was, she didn't have his experience. But she had skills of her own, skills that she was more than willing to put to use. And she had made quite a lot of progress on her own, without that decrepit old geezer Wayne to deal with.

The first night had been the most difficult, as she had been completely unused to the suit and what it could do, although she'd had a pretty good feel for how it affected her mobility. But she kept herself in excellent physical shape, which along with the extensive training she had received in her youth allowed her to adapt pretty easily. And with every night, she had learned more about what the suit could do, but still she felt like she had barely scratched the surface of the suit's capabilities.

_I can see why Terry does this.' _She thought to herself as she slipped back into their apartment, closed the window, and stripped off the suit, then carefully folded it. She stowed it in a bag, which she hid in their closet.  
>Then, she slipped into bed, and was asleep within minutes.<p>

* * *

><p>One consequence of her new night life, however, was that she was not getting as much sleep, which was starting to tell. Fortunately, Melanie thought, Winter Break was due to start, which would give her a couple of weeks during which she had a little more breathing room. After that...she would just have to see.<p>

As long as she could just get through mid-terms.

"Are you okay?" Chelsea asked her as they left their first class of the day. "You look slagged."

- "Sorry, I...haven't been sleeping much lately." Melanie replied vaguely.

- "You worried about Terry?" Chelsea asked, and Melanie nodded. Well, that was partly true. "Have you heard anything?"

- "Nothing yet." she replied, sounding tired and worried. "Which I guess means there's no bad news. But no good news either."

At that moment, her phone rang, and she fished it out of her pocket.  
>"This is Melanie." she said, and when she heard who it was, her heart skipped a beat. "Mrs. McGinnis. What's the matter?"<p>

Her eyes went wide, and she said nothing for a while.  
>"I have classes this morning, but I'm working a half-shift today so I don't have to be at the Kitchen until six. Can you pick me up at the dorm around 2:00?...Thanks a lot. I'll see you then."<br>When she hung up the phone, she let out a sigh of relief.

- "Good news?" Chelsea asked.

- "The best," Melanie replied. "Terry woke up this morning. The doctors say we can see him this afternoon."

- "All right!" Chelsea exclaimed, "Bet you're happy about that."

- "Overjoyed. But I'm still not going to stop worrying until he's out of the hospital and back on his feet again." Melanie said.

Chelsea shrugged, and the two friends continued on their walk, chatting animatedly as they headed to their next class.

The rest of the morning went by fast. After class, Melanie and Chelsea grabbed some lunch, and then she headed back to the dorm, dropping off her book bag and picking up her purse.  
>She thought about taking the bag in which she had stored the suit, but decided not to. She made sure the windows were all shut and latched, then locked the door.<p>

Soon enough, she saw Mary McGinnis's car pull up, and she saw that Matt was in the back seat. She climbed in the front, and it would have been difficult to say whether she or the eleven-year-old was the more eager to arrive.

The trip to the hospital seemed to take no time at all, and when they arrived they were taken straight to Terry's room.  
>When they walked in, Terry was sleeping.<p>

He had slept most of the day, since the last time Doc Elliott came in to check on him that morning. He had bandages across his torso, his other leg, and his head where he had injured himself in the accident.  
>He couldn't remember exactly what had happened. His head hurt, and he felt disoriented. So he slept.<p>

When his eyes opened, the first thing he saw was an angelic face bent over him, framed by long, flowing blonde hair.

"Hey." Melanie said, and he smiled weakly. "You had me worried."

- "You had all of us worried." He heard another voice say, and when he turned his head he saw his mother sitting in a second chair at the foot of his bed. Matt was standing next to her.  
>All three of them looked worried. But he could also see that they were relieved to see him awake.<p>

- "Sorry." He said. He looked at Melanie again, and he started to notice details that looked odd to him.  
>There were dark circles under her eyes, and behind her smile he thought she looked tired, like...<p>

She saw him looking.  
>- "I haven't been getting much sleep for the past few days." She said. "But don't worry about that now. I'm just glad you're...gonna be okay."<p>

- "Yeah..." he said. "What about..."

- "Mr. Wayne called the day after your accident." His mom said, guessing what he was about to ask. "I told him what happened. And I called the University as well - everything's taken care of."

- "You'll have some catching up to do, you're missing mid-terms." Melanie continued, "but Max and I'll help."

- "That's good." Terry said. Then he glanced at Matt, and grinned. "How 'bout you, twip? You been worried about me too?"

Mary frowned, but for once said nothing.  
>Matt made a face, like he was annoyed - which he was - but did not, for once, retaliate.<p>

- "Yeah, kinda." He said. "Wha'dya have to go and almost kill yourself for, anyway?"

- "MATT!" Mary exclaimed, outraged.

Terry laughed, but it hurt his ribs to do so and he stopped pretty quickly.  
>- "Sure," he said, still chuckling, "I wanted to put myself in the hospital."<p>

Mary thought the joke was in poor taste, but let it slide. It could have been so much worse, she thought...  
>But he was okay - or he would be. That was the important part. And at least for a while she wouldn't have to worry about him risking his neck every single night.<p>

They talked for a while longer. Terry was in good spirits despite his injuries, and was only too happy to listen to Matt talking about what he'd been up to. Melanie simply stayed at his side, holding his uninjured left hand in hers, a peaceful smile on her face.

After a while, Mary hustled Matt out of the room to give the two of them some privacy, advising Melanie that she would wait for her.

Melanie smiled and thanked her.

Once they were alone, Terry's expression grew serious.  
>"Melanie, are you sure you're okay?" He asked. "You look like you've got something on your mind."<p>

- "I'm fine." She said, but he looked unconvinced.

- "You're sure?" Terry insisted. "You know, you can tell me anything. I won't judge - ever. Even if..." He let the thought trail off, but Melanie frowned. She knew what he was alluding to.

- "It's nothing like that." She said, a little more sharply than she intended to.

- "But if there were something, you would tell me." Terry said.

- "Of course." She said softly, and he felt her squeezing his hand in hers. She leaned in, and he felt her fingers on his cheek, her touch gentle, fleeting.  
>Then she backed away again, sinking into her chair. "I've just...been working a lot, and I've been worried about you."<p>

- "Well, I'm far from fine," he said with a wry grin, "but I'm alive. And I'll recover. You don't have to worry, I'm not going anywhere."

- "I hope not." She said quietly. "I don't know what I would do if you did."

The silence stretched between them for several minutes. Terry's head still hurt, but it didn't bother him as much.  
>- "Well, don't overwork yourself." He asked. "You know I'll be there for you. Always."<p>

She heard the concern in his voice, and could have laughed. He had almost died, he was in the hospital with two broken limbs and a number of other injuries, and he was worried about _her.  
><em>Finally she smiled again, and as he had before, Terry thought that she looked so much more beautiful when she smiled.

- "You look tired yourself." She said.

- "Me? Nah." He protested. "I've been sleeping all day. You working tonight?"

- "Just a half-shift." She said.

- "Well do me a favor and try to get some sleep." He said. "You look like you need it."

- "All right." she said. She stood, bent over the bed, and kissed him, long and slow.

- "I missed that." He breathed when their lips parted.

- "Me too." She replied softly, and kissed him again. "I'll come by again soon. I love you."  
>She stood, and with a long, last look back from the doorway, left the room, softly closing the door behind her.<p>

She met Mrs. McGinnis and Matt in the lobby, and they all headed back to the car. They left the hospital, and Mrs. McGinnis dropped Melanie off on campus. She went straight up to the apartment she shared with Terry.  
>She had a couple of hours still before she was due to start her shift at the Kitchen, so she spent the time working on her assignments for class.<p>

At five o'clock, she retrieved her bag from where it was in the closet, and left, locking the apartment before she made her way to the stop where she caught the E train to downtown.

She arrived with time to spare, changed into her uniform and headed into the kitchen to start working.

"Hey, Mel." Cal said when he saw her. "How are you holdin' up?"

- "Fine," she replied as she got to work. "I went to see Terry at the hospital today. He's doing better."

- "That's good." Cal replied. She smiled. And she got right back to work.

* * *

><p>Melanie wasn't scheduled to close that night, and Cal saw how tired she looked at recommended she go home when she asked whether he needed her to stay.<p>

"You look dead on your feet, Mel." He'd said. "Get on home and get some shut-eye."  
>So leave she did. She missed the E train so she had to catch the L, which took a little longer to reach the university.<br>As she sat in the train, she was pensive, thinking about Terry and their conversation that day.

She had not mentioned to Terry what she had done. She wasn't sure why, but she had not told him that, while he was in the hospital, she had tried to take his place. But she knew that she would have to eventually.

The past year, she had been happier than she had been in a long, long time. Because she knew that Terry was there for her, no matter how hard things got.

And they were hard. Since striking out on her own, and especially since she started trying to put herself through college, there had been times when she could barely manage to make ends meet.

Things were a little easier now. The grant she had gotten paid for her classes, and since moving in with Terry, they split the cost of housing. That had been his idea, and she had agreed immediately not just because it made it easier for her financially, but also emotionally.  
>Because it meant she could be closer to him. And now that they had each other, that alone made everything else worth bearing.<p>

"Next time," she muttered as she climbed off the train and made her way home, "I'll tell him." And she slipped into the apartment.

She considered going out again, and she glanced at the closet, where she had very carefully hidden the bag in which she had stowed it. After Terry got better, she guessed she would have to give it back. But did she want to?

_'He shouldn't have to bear that burden alone.'_ she thought. But she wasn't sure whether Terry would be willing to let her continue to share that with him.  
>And she <em>knew <em>Wayne wouldn't agree…

She dismissed those thoughts, shaking her head.  
>"The suit is Terry's." she said resolutely. "I will keep it until he recovers. After that, we'll decide what the next step will be."<p>

She decided not to go out after all. She was too tired, and she needed sleep.

She changed into her nightgown and slipped into bed. Soon, she slept more soundly than she had all week.

* * *

><p>Elsewhere, an older man sat at the head of a table, looking around at the small group of people assembled around him. Only one chair at the table remained empty, and it would not for long.<br>He was tall and thin, but strong, with high cheekbones, and an arrogant air. He gazed coldly from the woman seated on his immediate right to the empty chair next to her, and then to the other members of their gathering.

And he smiled, though his eyes remained cold.  
>"Very well, everyone." He said. "It has taken quite some time, but I would like for you all to welcome Wyatt Trantel, our final recruit."<p>

A door behind the older man opened, and a second man entered. He was much younger, in his mid-thirties. Of middling height, he had a sallow, pointed face and small, narrow eyes, which darted from one face to another as he took in the assembled group. There was in his expression a thinly-veiled cruelty that made the youngest member of the small assembly shiver in revulsion.

The woman greeted the newcomer and gestured toward the empty chair was next to her. Trantel nodded and took his place, as she welcomed him. The others then followed suit.

The older man at the head of the table looked around, and he smiled again.  
>They were ready.<p>

And soon, he would at last have his revenge…


	5. 05: Missing

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **I've gotten some comments about the lack of action so far, for which I do apologize. I was originally expecting to get up to this point within the first 2-3 chapters and then get on with the action, but there was just too much to cover.  
>I must also apologize that this chapter is again light on action, but it sets up for next chapter, which will have a fair bit of action as well as move the plot forward.<p>

* * *

><p><strong>BATMAN BEYOND:<br>The Second Rebirth  
>Chapter 5<strong>

In his room at Gotham General Hospital, Terry stared morosely out the nearby window. A light snow fell, and the sky was a dull grey.  
>His injuries were healing; the fracture in his arm and cracked ribs were healing most rapidly. The more serious break in his leg had been set, and it was slowly on the mend, as was the head injury.<br>He still felt some disorientation as a result of his concussion, and there were gaps in his memory - he couldn't remember very well a lot of what had happened the day of the accident. But he was getting better.

_'Not fast enough.' _He thought. Every day, every hour he spent stuck here meant that there was no Batman out there…

He heard the door open, and saw a tall, broad-shouldered old man, leaning on a lacquered wood cane enter the room.  
>"Mr. Wayne." Terry exclaimed with some surprise. He hadn't expected the old man to visit.<p>

- "Hello, Terry." Wayne said gruffly. Despite their differences, Bruce had found himself over the past few years developing a sort of attachment to the kid… He was so much like Dick – or like Bruce himself in his youth.  
>"How are you feeling?" He asked tentatively, uncomfortable with this kind of small talk.<p>

- "I'm going a little stir-crazy, not being able to move." Terry joked. No, Bruce thought again, he was more like Dick than anything else.  
>"Feeling all right, I guess." Terry continued more seriously. "Melanie came by with Mom and Matt a couple days ago, so that was nice."<p>

Terry watched the old man for a reaction, but Bruce remained impassive. The relationship between Terry and Melanie Walker – which Bruce disapproved – had been a bone of contention between them since the beginning.  
>Nothing had happened in the year since, but Bruce made no secret of his continued suspicions where she was concerned. Nonetheless, he said nothing.<p>

"The worst part is that being stuck here means I'm getting behind in my classes. But Max'll help me get caught up once I get out of here." Terry said. "Well, that and not being able to…y'know, _work._"

- "Unfortunately, there's not much we can do about that." Bruce said irritably, and Terry guessed correctly that the same problem had been weighing on the old man's mind. "What about…"

- "My "uniform"?" Terry, guessing his question, interrupted. Bruce nodded curtly. "I'm…not sure. Trying to remember if I took it…I think I left it at the apartment."

- "You don't know?" Bruce asked, a hard edge creeping into his voice.

- "I'm sorry, I can't be sure." Terry said apologetically.

Bruce took a deep breath, trying to stop himself from getting angry. He knew, after the injuries that he had sustained, Terry was in bad shape. Disorientation, some memory loss was to be expected. But for something this important… With the capabilities of the suit, in the wrong hands it could be a terrifyingly dangerous weapon. They _had to find it._

- "I'm trying to think…I always keep it in the same backpack." He said. "Brown one – I've had it since High School. Usually, I carry it in a storage compartment in my bike."

- "Your bike – or what's left of it – is at the police impound." Bruce commented dryly. "I can ask Barbara to check discreetly."

- "The police impound?" Terry asked, puzzled.

- "The driver of the car that hit you was drunk. He was arrested by GCPD at the scene." Bruce added.

- "Okay." Terry said slowly. "So either way, it'll be in that backpack. And the backpack can only be in two places: The bike, or else at my apartment. Max has a spare key to the apartment – I'm sure she can check."

Terry gave Bruce Max's number, and he called, frowning. The conversation was brief, and Max agreed to stop by Terry's apartment.  
>"And one more thing: If it's there, <em>leave it there.<em>" Bruce added warningly, and hung up.

- "Miserable old geezer." Max grumbled, sliding her phone back in her pocket. She had entertained the notion of "borrowing" the suit while Terry was out, and Wayne made it clear he would have none of it…Then again, what he didn't know couldn't hurt him.

She arrived at Terry and Melanie's apartment soon enough, and let herself in. She found Terry's backpack – the same one he'd been using since High School. She knew this was still the backpack he used, and that it was also the backpack he kept the suit in when he wasn't out being Batman.

So she was unpleasantly surprised to find it empty. She searched the apartment carefully, but found no sign of it.  
>"Damn," Max muttered, "I wonder where it is…old grumpy-ass is <em>not <em>gonna be happy."

She left the apartment, and made her way out the front of the building. That was when she saw a tall, slender silhouette approaching. She recognized the long, blonde hair. And she knew Melanie had seen her.

"Hey, Max." Melanie asked when she walked up. "What's up?"

- "Mel! Hey, I was just lookin' for you." Max lied, thinking fast. "You heard from Terry?"

Melanie shook her head.  
>- "Not today." She said. "I saw him a couple of days ago at the hospital, and he seemed to be doing okay."<p>

- "Oh." Max replied. "Well, that's good to hear. Maybe I'll stop by and visit when I get the chance."

They chatted for a while longer, and Melanie said good-bye, announcing she was heading home. Max said good-bye, suggesting they catch up later, and started off.

As soon as Melanie was out of earshot, Max fished her phone out of her pocket and hit redial.

* * *

><p>Meanwhile, Melanie returned home and dropped her bag on the floor before collapsing on the bed.<br>It had been a long day, especially since she'd snuck in an early half-shift at the Kitchen before class. On the other hand, she did not have to work tonight, which was good.

"First time in a while I haven't worked a Friday night," She mused aloud to the empty room.

She slipped the suit out from where she had put it in her bag with her class stuff. She had taken to carrying it with her rather than leaving it in the apartment, because it was easier.

Mid-terms were done, and winter break meant she had two weeks without classes to worry about. She had had an early dinner with Chelsea and a couple of others, so she had the whole evening to herself.

She decided to suit up and head out, even though it was earlier than usual; she'd typically waited until well after nightfall before going out, much as Terry typically did. She drew the blinds, and then slowly put on the suit.  
>As she was about to put on the cowl, she glanced at her reflection in the mirror. A thoughtful expression came into her eyes as she reminisced about the things she had done, and how much her life had changed.<p>

She rarely thought about the old days anymore - the days when she had been Ten of the Royal Flush Gang. Sometimes, especially in the first couple of years, she had missed how much easier things had been then. They'd had more money than they knew what to do with, and she never had to worry about anything.

But then she remembered the loneliness, which had been the worst part of all.  
>Her family traveled all over the place, so she never had any friends – when she did manage to make any, she inevitably lost them. And after a while, she had stopped trying. Had simply accepted that she couldn't have any friends, but just stayed the outsider.<p>

But everything was different now. She had friends, she had her life. It wasn't an easy life, but it was _hers, _and it didn't involve stealing or moving from place to place every few she had a surrogate family of sorts in Mrs. McGinnis and Matt.

She thought of her brother, working on his own. She hadn't been to see him in a while, and decided that she should when she got the chance. Probably, she would go for a couple of days during the break.

She thought of her mother in prison, and felt a pang of sadness. Looking back, she sometimes thought that for all the things that had happened, her mother did love her, in a way. And that had made the betrayal – because it was a betrayal, what they had done – that much more painful.

Still sometimes she missed her.

She shook her head. They had been a family because they were the Royal Flush Gang. Her parents' affection extended only so far as she had been Ten of the Royal Flush Gang. That was all.  
>And that life was over now.<p>

Now, she wasn't stealing anymore; she was helping to make a difference – the way Terry did.  
>Why did she do it? She sometimes asked herself that in the past few days.<p>

The biggest reason was that it was important to Terry, and he could not do it. So she did it in his stead. Because she knew why he did it; there are things he wanted to protect. And because she loved him, she would protect them for him. In a way, she was protecting him, too.

And maybe, to make up for what she had done. To prove once and for all that she really had changed, that she was no longer a thief.  
>She knew with absolute certainty that she would never go back to that life again, because to do so would mean betraying Terry. And she could never do that.<br>Besides, had an honest job, and she was happier living with him.

She turned away from the mirror and slid the cowl over her face, securing it at the neck.  
>In the past few days, she had experimented with the suit until she figured out most of its key functions, including its flight systems and a number of others. Including the suit's cloaking systems, which she activated before slipping out of the window, closing it behind her. Then she slipped away from the campus.<p>

The sun had set, and twilight lay over Gotham City. Once she was far enough, she disengaged the suit's camouflage and engaged its flight systems. Then, propelled by the thrusters in its boots, the wings unfurled to their full size, she took off into the night.

* * *

><p>In Terry's hospital room, Bruce waited anxiously, until his phone rang.<p>

"This is Wayne." He said sharply.

From his hospital bed, Terry glanced, and he felt a lead weight in his stomach when he saw the old man turn pale. He knew the news was bad.

The old man hung up the phone and pocketed it.  
>"The suit is not in your apartment, Terry." He said, and his voice was shaking with fear and barely restrained anger.<p>

The blood drained from Terry's face, and he looked horrified. The suit was _missing.  
><em>- "Damn it." He swore loudly. "Stupid, careless…I'm sorry, Mr. Wayne. This is all my fault."

Bruce thought about what Terry had said – it may be with his bike, but he doubted it. It was stupid and careless to leave the suit anywhere, a mistake he never would have made.

- "The suit has a tracking device built into it, which can be traced from the computer." He reminded Terry. "And if necessary, there is still the kill switch. We can disable the suit if we have to."  
>It was the only hope they had. He would have to get on it immediately, as soon as he got home. He would find the suit, and he would get it back. And he would just have to see what happened after that.<p>

- "I'm sorry, sir." Terry said again. "I just wish there was something I could do to fix this."

- "Right now, there isn't." Bruce said, a little more sharply than he'd intended. "I'll get this dealt with."

Bruce pulled an old-fashioned gold pocket watch from his pocket and checked the time.  
>He was almost late.<br>"I have to leave – I have an important appointment to keep." Bruce said flatly.

Terry nodded. He knew exactly what appointment that was.

"I will get this dealt with when I get home." Bruce said, and turned to leave. The door closed behind him, and Terry stared glumly at it for a while, before lying back down.  
>After this, he wouldn't be surprised if the old man fired him. He just hoped he didn't.<p>

Bruce made his way back down to the parking lot, until he reached his car.  
>He opened the door and with some difficulty sat himself in the driver's seat. He didn't often drive himself anymore – usually Terry did. Even for these appointments.<br>But in this case he had no choice.

He still couldn't _believe _how careless Terry had been; to let that suit out of his sight even for a second, even though he _knew _what it was capable of.

Reluctantly, he laid aside, for now, his concerns about just what had happened to the Batsuit.

For now, he had something more important to attend to, but he remained could not help but dwell on it even as he pulled out of the hospital parking lot. As soon as he got home, he would track the suit. Depending on what that told him, he would decide what the next step would be, and he would get it back.

He turned onto the 10 and headed back into the heart of the city, towards Old Gotham's Historical District.


	6. 06: Park Row

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **Okay, finally some action!

* * *

><p><strong>BATMAN BEYOND:<br>The Second Rebirth  
>Chapter 6<strong>

The weathered sign at the corner still read "Park Row", but nobody used that name anymore. Precious few people in Gotham City knew that the narrow alleyway, located in Gotham's historical district, even still existed.  
>Decades after the event, books still talked about the Park Row Tragedy, but other than that, those few who still knew of its existence usually called it Crime Alley.<br>For decades, what had once been one of the most upscale and sought-after strips of real estate in Gotham had instead been the home of the poor, the desperate, the destitute...and those criminals who plied their trade on the streets of the lowest levels of the city; drug dealers, pimps, assorted gangs. Even in the wake of the severe crackdown by GCPD in recent years, Crime Alley remained, as the press had once called it, a breeding ground for crime.

And yet, when a long, low-slung dark blue limousine turned the corner and swept down the street, barely anyone gave it a second glance. Most of them had more important things on their mind, and many of the oldest recognized the vehicle. It was a familiar sight - every year on this date, at roughly the same time, the sleek vehicle or one very like it slid into the alley. It never stayed long, and most people knew to give the vehicle - and its owner - a wide berth.

Behind the steering wheel of the dark luxury vehicle, Bruce Wayne sat in contemplative silence, thinking of how much his life had changed in the decades since that terrible night, nearly eighty years earlier, when his childhood had ended.

He thought of Dr. Leslie Thompkins, an old friend of his late father's, and the one who had comforted the orphaned Bruce after the murder of his parents. He had been eight years old.  
>Leslie was long since deceased now, as was the family's butler, the eternally unflappable ex-British Intelligence operative Alfred Pennyworth. Both of them were buried in the same cemetery as Thomas and Martha Wayne, in an affluent area outside of the city proper.<p>

But for Bruce, this narrow, dingy alleyway was far more important, symbolically. It had been right here, after all, that his innocence was stolen along with his parents' lives by some punk with a gun. It was right here, he reflected darkly, that what would become Batman was born.  
>He shook his head, dismissing those grim recollections, and checked his watch.<p>

8:00 PM. Time to go. He opened the door, picking up as he did the long, slender cardboard box on the passenger-side seat.

He clambered out, then retrieved his cane and closed the door, limping around the car until he reached the exact spot. He opened the box, and withdrew two white roses. Then he knelt with some difficulty, placing the two flowers on the ground.

He stayed there for a few moments in solitary silence. Then he stood, and turned back towards the car.

That was when he saw two young men amble into the alley, blocking his path. One was unarmed, the other carried a short, heavy club. There were greedy looks on their painted faces, and their outfits were in painfully garish colors - Jokerz.  
>He clocked at least six more slowly approaching, all variously armed.<p>

"That's a pretty schway set of wheels, old man." The leader, a tall kid wearing a purple jacket, his green-dyed hair tied back in a ponytail. "Hand over the keys."

- "No." Bruce replied simply, tightening his grip on his cane.

- "I don't think you understand, pops." The tall leader said again. "I wasn't asking."

- "This is our turf, gramps." the shorter one with the club said, hefting his weapon in a gesture intended to intimidate. "You gonna come through here, you gotta pay the toll. Otherwise…"

Bruce did not give the punk a chance to finish his sentence, but lashed out with his cane, slamming it across the kid's tibias.  
>The kid jumped with a cry of pain, and a second blow struck him in the face. He crumpled to the ground, the club falling from his hands to the pavement with a vibrant, metallic clang.<p>

- "Why you old..." the taller one cried out, but the handle of the cane struck his larynx, cutting off the flow of air into his lungs, and then Bruce Wayne grabbed the punk by the collar and threw him across the alley. He hit the wall hard, and fell unconscious.

The others closed in, and Bruce steeled himself, stepping back to put the near alley wall to his back, preventing them from surrounding him.  
>Another look around confirmed his earlier count. There were six of them.<br>One was a thinner kid wearing a black hooded sweatshirt, dirty-blonde hair peeking from under the rim of the hat he wore. He had on a mask rather than face paint, and was armed with a club similar to that of the first Joker he'd dropped.  
>The kid hefted his weapon and swung towards the old man's face.<p>

Bruce parried the blow with his cane, then swung the cane and drove it into his solar plexus, knocking the wind out of him. A second hit to the side of the head knocked him down.

That was when he felt sudden pain in his chest. His breath was short. He felt light-headed, nauseous.  
>He fell to his knees.<br>'_NO! Not now!' _He mentally screamed as his weak heart got the better of him.

"Say good night, gramps." He dimly heard someone say. The kid with the mask pulled a gun from the waistband of his jeans and aimed it straight at Bruce's head.

He was going to die - in the same alley where his parents were murdered. At the hands of some punk with a gun…

A shadow flitted past overhead, and one of the Jokerz looked around.  
>"What was that?" He asked.<p>

There was a sudden flash of metal, a cry of pain, and a metallic clatter as the gun fell to the ground, an explosion as it discharged, the single bullet missing one of the gangsters by millimeters before lodging itself in the wall.

Bruce looked up, and dimly, saw the gun where it had fallen on the ground. And a foot or two away, a slender, black object. Flat, curved. He recognized the distinctive shape: It was a batarang.

_How?..._

He heard a voice. Young. a woman's voice.  
>"Eight of you dregs against one old man? That seems a bit excessive. Well, only six now." The tone was taunting, a familiar mocking edge to it…the voice. It seemed…he'd heard it before, but couldn't place it.<br>Something dropped from above onto the shoulders of the masked kid who cradled his bleeding hand, sliced open by the batarang. Driven to the ground, he was knocked unconscious by the impact.  
>"And now, it's five."<p>

Taking advantage of the respite, Bruce reached into his coat pocket for his heart medication.  
>Since the first time he'd met Terry, he always carried it with him. he had difficulty opening the bottle, but he managed it. He dry-swallowed the pills, and looked up through a haze of pain.<p>

When he realized what he was seeing, his jaw dropped.

Five Jokerz stood in a row in front of him. Between him and the gang was a young woman wearing a black, one-piece reinforced bodysuit, with a full-face mask. A batsuit.  
>No. <em>THE <em>Batsuit - Terry's, the one that was missing since his accident.

- "Who're you supposed to be," the kid with the mask spat, "Batgirl or something?"

- "Something like that." Came the reply, sounding amused and, at the same time, eager. Then she lashed out, kicking him in the stomach, then following it with a lightning-fast jab to the face that dropped him.

One of the four left - a big guy wearing a vest and a pair of brass knuckles on his hands - rushed her, and she parried one, then a second punch, almost effortlessly, then retaliated with a vicious left-booted dragon kick that slammed into the big guy's gut, staggering him.  
>Before he recovered she followed up with a second attack, sweeping his legs out from under him, then putting him down with another solid kick to the side of the head.<p>

Two of the remaining three moved in at roughly the same time, engaging her directly, attempting to force her on the defensive. One was empty-handed, the other held a length of steel pipe in one hand.

She moved with a dancer's grace, and in a back corner of his mind, Bruce Wayne noted that she had clearly been well-trained in martial arts. She dodged the two clowns' attacks with surprising ease considering there were two of them, jumped nimbly over them, then as they turned around, she kicked one of them hard, and he fell into his buddy, dropping the pipe to the floor.

Thrown off-balance, it took them a couple of seconds to get themselves together, by which time she was on them, dispatching one with a gut punch followed by a vicious uppercut.

The other tried to kick her, and she side-stepped the attack, spun, and countered with a kick of her own, hard and fast, which took him in the side, slamming him into the alley wall.

The ponytail-wearing leader stood groggily, and picked up the length of pipe off the ground, while his remaining accomplice drew a short knuckle knife.

The leader came first, swinging the pipe at her like a baseball bat. She caught it one-handed, then counter-attacked instantly with a lightning-fast jab to the solar plexus. He bent over double, his hand releasing the pipe, just as she followed up, her knee slamming into his face.  
>They all heard the audible crack as the punk's nose broke, and he screamed in pain.<p>

The one with the knife charged, but she side-stepped the attack, and brought the pipe down on his wrist, hard. He too yelled in pain, dropping the knife. She reversed the pipe and swung again, but the kid jumped back, avoiding the blow by centimeters.

Stopping to help his leader, he glared back at the black-clad assailant, before the two thugs fled.  
>The others lay on the ground where they'd fallen.<p>

She twirled the length of pipe like a baton before tossing it to the ground. Then she turned around, helping Bruce to his feet. Satisfied that the old man would be all right, she turned around again to leave.

"WAIT!" Bruce said loudly. She heard the command in his tone, and turned towards him, a strange expression on her face.

- "You're welcome." She said sarcastically. He ignored it. Again he felt that there was something oddly familiar about her, but he still could not quite put his finger on what it was.

- "Who are you, and how did you get that suit?" He demanded. For a moment, she did not answer.

Then she flashed a sardonic smile.  
>- "You're the world's greatest detective," she taunted, "Why don't you figure it out?"<p>

A second later she was gone, leaving Bruce Wayne standing alone in the alley where his parents were murdered, a strange expression on his face.

He turned and headed back towards his car, grappling with a sense of déjà-vu he could not quite explain. Gradually, a dim recollection returned to him, an encounter from many, many years earlier.

Kathy Duquesne, Rocky Ballantine, Sonia Alcana. Three women who, many years earlier, had assumed the mantle of "Batwoman" in a shared vendetta against Rupert Thorne.  
>The first confrontation with one of them - to this day, he was still not sure which of the three - had ended when she had uttered almost the exact same words.<p>

"At least this time, she didn't take a swing at me." He mumbled, remembering how the young woman had attacked him before eventually flying off.

He sat in the driver's seat of his car and closed the door, when the implications of the statement struck him.  
>Whoever that was wearing Terry's suit, <em>she knew who he was - who he had been.<em>

The confrontation with Batwoman had been with _Batman_, _not Bruce Wayne._ Moreover, the phrase "the world's greatest detective" had been a favorite of the press to describe Batman, in the old days.  
>There was NOTHING in the life of Bruce Wayne, socialite, billionaire playboy, to suggest he even knew the first thing about investigative work. Thus there was no reason for anyone to address Bruce Wayne in that way. Unless they also happened to know that Bruce Wayne had once been Batman himself.<p>

And the list of people who knew that was _extremely_ short.

He started the engine, and the big, dark-blue limousine rolled smoothly forward as he drove himself back to the Manor.

In his youth, Bruce had been an avid bibliophile and, together with Alfred, had begun a hobby of collecting first edition books. It was a hobby that had continued for many years, and an entire wall of the library in the east wing of the big mansion was dedicated to a collection of first-editions worth a small fortune - not that he would ever sell them. But a particular favorite of his had been the works of British author Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, and a phrase occurred to him from one of those books.

"When you have eliminated the impossible," he quoted to himself, "whatever remains, however improbable, _must be the truth_."

He mentally summed up the facts as he knew them, and drew the following conclusions:

1. The thief was a young woman who, by his assessment based on height, build, and other physical characteristics, was between the ages of 17 and 21.  
>2. She was a skilled fighter with apparently extensive hand-to-hand combat training, both armed and unarmed.<br>3. She had to have been someone who was able to get into Terry's apartment without arousing suspicion, and that very recently.  
>4. Most importantly, she knew that Bruce Wayne had been Batman.<p>

By the time he arrived at the gates of Wayne Manor and started up the quarter-mile-long driveway, he had considered and eliminated the few possibilities that occurred to him.

Except one.


	7. 07: Confrontation

**BATMAN BEYOND:  
>The Second Rebirth<br>Chapter 7**

"Is everyone ready?" He asked, looking around at the others. Each of the four of them now wore the uniform that identified them, as did he, as their leader.

It had been years since he saw such a sight, and felt a surge of pride at what they - what _he _had accomplished. Each had his own weapon. They _were _ready.

"Good. We've gone over the plan," he said. "Stick to it, and everything will be fine." He said.

Tonight would be only their first sortie into Gotham. There would be more…and in other cities beside.

The five of them boarded their transportation and slipped noiselessly out into the night. Their target was determined, the plan laid. If all went well, within two hours they would have their prize and be back here before Gotham's Finest even had a clue what was happening.

"But remember - if the Batman shows, I will deal with him _personally._" He added, a dangerous tone in his voice. "We have a great deal of unfinished business to settle, he and I…three or four years' worth, at the very least."

* * *

><p>From the pinnacle of the highest building in the historical district, Melanie Walker watched the old man limp back towards his car and drive off.<p>

She had no doubt Wayne would figure out who she was, probably very quickly.

She was equally certain that the old man would have some means of either seizing control of the suit, or else disabling it entirely by remote.

With enough time and a careful look at the suit's circuitry, she could probably find and possibly disable the receiver. Right now, she had neither, which meant the better option was to find and disable the transmitter at the source. And she had a pretty good exactly where that would be.

She guessed that was now the old man's destination.

Melanie had studied maps of Gotham, so she knew the roads reasonably well. And she knew that she could take a more direct route by air, cutting across rooftops and avoiding the maze of roads that made up Old Gotham and this area of downtown. She could get there first.

"I suppose this had to happen sooner or later. I guess sooner works." She mused.  
>As she took off, her mind returned to the exhilaration of the confrontation between herself and the six Jokerz she'd just taken on.<p>

One of them had referred to her as Batgirl.

When she decided to take up the mantle in Terry's place, she hadn't given any thought to that. Obviously, she wasn't Bat_man_, as she was a woman.

She didn't know much about Batman - the _first _Batman. It had been before she was born, and her upbringing was not of the sort that exposed her to the kinds of stories most kids her age had grown up hearing about Gotham's former protector.

All she really knew was that in the days when her grandfather - her mother's father - was King of the Royal Flush Gang, they had come up against Batman and been defeated, breaking up the gang until its recreation under the leadership of her mother and his husband - both former members of the Gang themselves. And dear old Dad had a chip on his shoulder about that. But it was a different time now, and a different Batman.

She did also know, however, that Batman had not been alone - he'd had partners, and one of them had been a woman. She supposed using "girl" to describe someone of her age was odd, but "Bat_woman_" just didn't have quite the same flair, she thought.

"I'm Batgirl…" she said tentatively. She liked how it sounded.  
><em>'Batman and Batgirl…I kinda like the sound of that.'<em> She thought with a smile. _'I wonder what Terry'll think…'_

As for Wayne, she didn't have to wonder how _he'd _react. The paranoid old man would probably have another heart attack at the merest suggestion that she and Terry work together.

Soon, she neared her destination. And thanks to the suit's sensors, she quickly found exactly what she was looking for…

* * *

><p>Bruce Wayne parked his car in the cavernous, empty garage and entered the house, heading straight for the great, high-ceilinged drawing room. He inspected his cane, and grunted when he found a hairline fracture on it.<br>Damn, now he'd have to fix that, too.

He was surprised to find Ace sitting quietly in the drawing room, apparently waiting for him. But he had more pressing things on his mind at the moment.

He stopped in front of the elegant grandfather clock that concealed the entrance to the Batcave, and opened the hidden door before slowly making his way down the narrow staircase that led to his dark domain.  
>The lights were turned off, so he flipped the switches that would turn them on, and then stepped into the cave proper. Ace followed behind him, his ears up and facing forward, his head darting from side to side. He moved deeper into the cave with long, loping strides.<p>

Bruce paid little heed to the dog's behaviour, but made a beeline for the massive computer, which lay dormant. He turned it on, then immediately pulled up a tracking program that continuously monitored the Batsuit. Once he launched the program, it would take a few minutes to locate the suit, but once it had he would be able to disable it if necessary.

He grumbled silently that he should have done this days ago, but with Terry unconscious, the disappearance of the suit had remained unknown to him until now.

However, that would not last long.  
>"Let's see where you're hiding now..." He growled under his breath as he launched the program.<p>

- "You won't have to look far." said a clear voice from somewhere behind him, and he started.

He turned around, alert eyes scanning the cave, and that was when he saw her standing in the shadows. The kill switch that would disable the suit was almost within reach. If he could just flip the cover and…

At that instant, he barely heard a faint whistle and metal flashed in the dim light of the Cave.  
>Missing his hand by millimeters, the batarang lodged itself firmly in the computer's console, destroying the control circuit for the switch.<p>

Then she took a few steps forward, and the harsh fluorescent lights illuminated her silhouette. She stopped about about ten feet away.

- "Theft, Breaking and Entering." Wayne commented flatly, a hard edge in his voice. "For someone who has allegedly reformed herself, you certainly seem to be keeping some strange habits, Ms. Walker."

She pulled off the cowl, revealing a pale, slender face, long blonde hair that, freed from the cowl, cascaded down her back, and piercing blue eyes. She said nothing, as of yet.

Ace barked, loping over to where she stood, tail wagging. She reached down and petted the big dog. Irritated, Bruce called the dog, who padded off back towards him and sat down, with a low whine.  
>"I want that suit back. And I want it <em>immediately.<em>" He demanded.

Melanie did not immediately reply. She crossed her arms, still glaring at Wayne. When she did speak, her response was succinct.

- "No."

The brevity of the response, as much as the unequivocal refusal, angered an already irritated Wayne. He gripped his cane a little harder, his knuckles whitening.

- "That suit is NOT yours." He said, his voice shaking with repressed anger.

- "No, it's not." She said briefly, the admission momentarily surprising the old man And then, she continued to speak. "The suit is Terry's, and I'll give it back to him, once he recovers. Until then, I'm keeping it."

- "You had _no right _to take it!" Wayne exclaimed, his voice rising as his control started to slip. "That suit is _my_ property, and I want it back, _NOW_!"

- "No." She said again. "Terry is Batman now, Mr. Wayne. And I will give the suit back to _him_. Once he's able to wear it again."

From anyone else, and in any other circumstances, Bruce would have been impressed at such resolve. But right now, it just infuriated him.  
>- "I'm warning you…" Wayne started to say.<p>

For a moment, Melanie almost laughed, but she didn't.  
>- "What are <em>you <em>going to do with it?" She challenged. "You're not going to wear it, I know that much. You _can't - _not anymore. I may not be a doctor, but I know a heart attack when I see one."

- "That is _none of your concern." _Wayne growled. "But if you think I'm going to leave that suit in the hands of a convicted criminal…"

She scoffed.  
>"You're just like my father. You're so convinced of your own superiority, that you're the only one that knows what's right, that you refuse to consider the possibility that you might be wrong." She spat, her full lips curled in a derisive sneer. "Well let me tell you something, Mr. Wayne: You <em>are <em>wrong. Because anything that concerns Terry _also _concerns me."

"I _know _what I've done." Melanie continued to say. "But guess what: _Things change. People change._"  
>The words were uncomfortably familiar to Wayne. He'd heard Terry say something similar the last time they had argued, when he told him what he had done - that he had told <em>her <em>about it.  
>And then, even longer ago…<p>

Her expression changed, the contempt disappearing.  
><em>"<em>Terry changed, and so did I." She continued. "You might be in denial, but Terry knows that. He trusts me, and I trust him. I _love _him. And if you think for one second that I would _ever_ do anything that would put him at risk, then you're an old fool."

She stepped closer, until she stood less than four feet away from him.  
>"And here's something else you seem to be forgetting: If you really were right about me, do you honestly think I would have gone through the effort to save your life?" She asked.<p>

Melanie, like most anybody in Gotham, knew Bruce Wayne's story, and she knew exactly why he had been in a dingy alley in the Historical District on that particular night. And she used that leverage to her advantage.  
>"No - I would have done nothing, and you would be dead." She said flatly. "Imagine that: The great Bruce Wayne, lying dead in an alley because of some punk with a gun."<p>

She took a chance by using what she knew, and she knew it was a low blow.  
>But it worked. The tension ebbed from Wayne's body, and his shoulders slumped. He sat down heavily in the deep, comfortable armchair.<p>

As much as he hated to admit it, the girl was right. If not for her intervention that evening, he would be dead - in the exact same place his parents had died, and in much the same way. It was, he guessed, sheer coincidence that had led her to be there at that precise moment. But she had acted, and whatever else could be said, he owed this girl his life.

Then there was the fact that by coming here, she had sought this confrontation. Still, he didn't want to trust her, at least not completely. But what choice did he have?

Before he could make up his mind, a sharp electronic beep sounded, and an alert screen popped up on his computer. A silent alarm had been tripped, and almost immediately silenced. Which meant one of two things:

1. An alarm had been triggered by accident, and then turned back off - not likely.  
>2. A break-in was in progress, and the one responsible had made a mistake. In this town, much more likely.<p>

He saw the location: Chesterfield's, a high-end jeweler in one of the uptown districts, which dealt primarily in very high-quality gemstones. Chesterfield's had recently acquired some especially valuable pieces, including the Vonalster Fabergé Egg and the almost equally valuable Broken Heart Diamond.

- "All right, Ms. Walker." Wayne grumbled reluctantly. "I will give you ONE chance to prove me wrong. But you _will_ follow my instructions."

- "Of course." She commented, and then pulled the cowl back over her head. Bruce couldn't help but notice the edge of sarcasm in her tone, but he was too tired to do anything about it.

- "Take the car." He said, and at the touch of a button on the computer console a ceiling-mounted spotlight engaged, illuminating the sleek, aerodynamic black vehicle. "It'll get you there much faster."

- "Very nice." She said slowly, glancing appreciatively at the car, which even at a standstill looked like it was flying. The canopy slid open, and she nimbly vaulted in. The canopy slid shut, and soon the car came alive, taking off and turning before it shot off.

Not quite so fast as Terry usually drove it, but still uncomfortably fast in his view.

Quite apart from the car's speed, which was still exponentially higher than the suit even with its upgrades, Bruce had an ulterior motive for wanting the girl to take it. While she had disabled the kill switch for the suit, Bruce still had the ability to, from the computer, take manual control of the car's systems, overriding the vehicle's internal control and commands from the suit. Which would leave her stuck inside the vehicle.

A window on his screen showed her location in real time, moving fast towards her destination. As he watched, he found himself wondering whether he might have just made the second most serious mistake of his life.

He stood for a moment, and wondered whether or not he was making the biggest mistake of his life. He hoped not.

But he limped to the workbench and grabbed a small toolbox, then sat down at the console and removed the batarang that was lodged in it. And he got to work, using the time it would take for her to reach her target to replace the damaged control circuitry of the kill switch.

...Just in case.


	8. 08: Royal Flush

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **I do apologize for how long it took to get this next chapter up and running, but personal circumstances led to a severe decline in inspiration as well as time to write. Hopefully, I can get back on track from now on.

* * *

><p><strong>BATMAN BEYOND:<br>The Second Rebirth  
>Chapter 8<strong>

It didn't take very long for the Batmobile to arrive above the target building - a tall shopping center that housed, among others, Chesterfield's fine jewelry store.  
>She abandoned the car around the corner in case the bad guys had posted a lookout, and made a cloaked transit using the suit's flight systems to cover the last couple of blocks.<p>

She knew exactly what to look for as she arrived, stowing the wings and deactivating the suit's stealth systems as she alighted on the roof. Within seconds, she spotted an open panel, and cut wiring. She saw that the primary and secondary alarm circuits had been cut - the primary first, then the secondary after the cut in the primary triggered the silent alarm, which had disengaged when the secondary circuit was cut.

She also noticed that the fiber optic and power lines for the building's security cameras had been cut, meaning there would be no active vid feeds inside the building.  
>They'd been thorough. Still, the work was sloppy, amateurish. She was almost disappointed.<p>

"If that had been me," she commented to herself with a professional's disdain for inferior work, "the alarm would never have been tripped."  
>A second later she shook her head, surprised at herself for feeling that way, given that it was a life she had left behind years earlier.<p>

Then she almost jumped as a harsh male voice growled in her ear.  
>- "That's nothing to boast about."<p>

She bit back a curse. Wayne - she'd forgotten that the paranoid old man would be listening. She'd have to remember that from now on.  
>- "Who's boasting?" She hissed in response. "I'm just making an observation. Besides, if they <em>hadn't <em>been so sloppy - if they had been as good as I used to be, then you wouldn't have known about that break-in until tomorrow morning's news."

Wayne grunted, unwilling to concede the point.  
>Melanie, however, had located the point of entry the criminal or criminals had used: One of a row of a dozen flat windows, approximately eight feet square, which formed an enormous skylight on the roof, allowing in what sunlight could enter during the day.<p>

The nearest one to where she stood had been literally ripped off its hinges and tossed aside, the inch-thick safety glass cracked, but not shattered.  
>It would have taken enormous physical strength to do that. Far greater strength than any ordinary crook possessed. But that's not what bothered her at that moment - she knew that the suit granted her significantly augmented strength, and could hold her own in a fight.<p>

No, what bothered her at that moment was that she had seen something very similar before…  
>"I've got a bad feeling about this…" She muttered, as she too slipped in.<p>

* * *

><p>Inside the store, the gang stood in the main showroom, while their leader dispassionately surveyed the corpses of two security guards who had entered the store, weapons drawn.<p>

It had almost spelled the end of their affair, as the two guards had been in a position to cover almost the entire gang. Wyatt, their newest recruit, had turned it all around, slipping behind one of the guards unseen and stabbing him in the back.  
>When the second had turned towards his colleague, he had himself used the opportunity Wyatt had created to finish off the hapless guard with a fatal electrical discharge from his own weapon.<p>

Frowning, he rounded on the slightest and youngest member of the group.

"Dregs, Ten!" He snarled, "We've been over this plan for _days_, and you almost ruined everything! If you'd paid attention, the guards would never have known we were here, and we would be gone by now!"

- "I'm sorry," she said, "I…"

- "Almost failed the family." King interrupted harshly.

- "I'm sorry. It won't happen again." She said.

- "See that it doesn't. Otherwise…" He let the threat hang unspoken. In the corner, the hulking figure of Ace shifted, but nobody moved. Nobody spoke. They all knew the stakes, and the consequences of failure.

"Now then," Robert Alexander Walker, the King of the new Royal Flush Gang, glanced up at where he knew the vault was located, where their real prize waited: The Broken Heart Diamond, a nearly-flawless gemstone of enormous size, perfectly cut. Absolutely priceless.

"Ace? Open the door, please." He said.

Ace nodded silently, then stepped forward. They could have asked Ten to open the vault, but after her earlier blunder, time was of the essence. They had to collect their prize and get out fast - it would be too much to hope that GCPD had not noticed the brief silent alarm, and he expected that cruisers were on the way even as they stood there.

The stupendously strong Ace tore the vault door open. King stepped forward into the vault, a light in hand, and immediately found his prize.

"Exquisite." He commented as he seized the gemstone and placed it in a pouch secured to his waist.

At his side, Queen entered, and saw a second piece, even more magnificent. She gasped audibly.  
>- "And it looks like we may have struck an even greater prize that we hoped, dear." She said.<p>

He turned, and instantly he knew what he was looking at. It was a famous piece.  
>- "Ah yes, the Vonalster Fabergé egg. A piece of inestimable value, and with quite a bit of history too - it is said that Oswald Cobblepot himself once attempted to steal this piece, unsuccessfully. And others beside, too."<p>

- "And now," Queen said with a self-satisfied smile, as she took the Egg and placed it in a second pouch, which she secured at her belt. "it too is ours."

Meanwhile in the store, Jack grinned as he shattered the nearest display case and started filling a bag he had carried for that express purpose with everything he could find.  
>Across the room, Ten did the same.<p>

"Payday, big time." Jack - Wyatt - said, a greedy expression on his face - unaware that he and the others were being watched.

_'Damn it...I don't BELIEVE THIS.' _Melanie silently screamed as she recognized what she was seeing: The Royal Flush Gang, the very same gang to which she had belonged until not so long ago.  
>It was like looking into a twisted mirror, as she glared at the new "Ten", whom she guessed was probably a girl her age, if not younger. The gigantic Ace, and even, she observed with a pang, Jack.<br>She guessed that King and Queen, who were probably in the vault, would be her parents as well. Clearly, they had replaced her and Jack, unless that was him.  
>She hoped with all her heart that it wasn't her brother.<p>

"Wayne," she whispered, "you're not going to believe this: The Royal Flush Gang are the ones casing the jeweler."

Bruce did the slightest of double-takes as he heard this; he had not expected to hear _that - _but on reflection he wasn't surprised.  
>"They must be after the Broken Heart Diamond." He stated.<p>

- "Probably." Melanie assented. "It sounds like the kind of thing Dad would go for." The bitterness in her tone was apparent to Wayne. "Well, time to greet my replacement." She added, then struck.

At the instant King and Queen stepped out of the vault, there was a harsh bang and the entire store erupted into blinding light. King swore, his hands flying to shield his eyes, but too late.  
>The next second he heard a grunt, the sounds of a struggle. By the time his eyesight started to return Ace was down, struggling against the strong lines that bound his arms and legs.<p>

In the midst of the room, a slender, black shadow. At first, he felt a fierce eagerness as he assumed that his chance for revenge on the Batman was come. Then he saw that the newcomer was...

"A girl?" He exclaimed with some surprise, frowning. "I was expecting the Batman, not some strumpet playing dress-up. Ten - deal with this pretender."

"Gladly." Ten replied, and dropping her bag, she vaulted over the counter and landed gracefully a short distance from Batgirl, immediately going on the offensive.  
>Melanie parried the first blow with relative ease, but her opponent disengaged and stepped back before she was able to counterattack.<p>

_'She's pretty good.' _Melanie thought as she felt her heart rate climb, adrenaline pumping. Her opponent struck again, a right-legged dragon kick that Melanie narrowly avoided. This time, she counterattacked with a vicious jab that caught her opponent off-guard, slamming into her face.  
>Ten struck again, a fast, hard punch which Melanie blocked. She blocked a second punch, then unleashed another jab straight to the other's face, staggering her.<p>

And this time Melanie took the opening, unleashing a lightning-fast, left-leg dragon kick of her own, which struck hard, sending Ten barreling off her feet and slamming into a support column.  
>She groaned in pain and lost consciousness, sinking to the ground.<br>_'But not good enough.' _Melanie thought. She wondered briefly where her father had found this kid, but soon moved on - she had other concerns.

Ace was struggling against the bonds that held him, and she guessed they wouldn't hold all that much longer. She was actually surprised they'd held as long as they had.  
>The more pressing concern was Jack, who attacked next, and she barely managed to activate the suit's electromagnetic shields in time to deflect three thrown daggers, which were cast aside when they struck the barrier.<p>

She deactivated the shields and once again leapt into action, nimbly jumping over the next knife. A pair of thrown batarangs knocked two knives from Jack's hand, and her two feet slammed into his torso, throwing him back.

He was on his feet in moments, and this time he charged, a dagger in each hand. The three spikes on the back of her forearms extended into cruelly sharp blades, which she used to parry Jack's first strike, and then she wrapped a hand around his wrist and applied pressure, forcing him to release the second.

He head butted her, and she saw stars for a split second as Jack broke away, but thankfully the cowl's insulation, while far thinner than that of the suit itself, mitigated much of the damage.  
>He tried to stab her in the stomach, but she turned, and the blow was a glancing one, barely scoring the suit's outer layer.<br>This time she retaliated by head-butting him, and followed it up with a sucker punch to the stomach that doubled him over.

Before he could recover, she slipped around and slammed her fist into the right side of his head, just behind the ear.  
>He crumpled.<p>

"Two down." She spat, glaring at the two that remained standing, mindful of the stupendously strong Ace, still struggling against his bonds in the corner.

King shook his head, disappointed at the less than impressive performance of his two most junior accomplices. And, begrudgingly, impressed at the speed and skill of this pretender.  
>"I will admit you have some skill, for some little girl playing at Batman."<p>

She tossed three boomerangs at him in response. The first two were decoys, the third aimed at the pouch on his belt. It was a simple ploy, but sometimes the simple ploys worked.  
>It almost did, as while he deflected two, the third sliced into the pouch at his belt.<br>However, King caught the enormous gemstone before it could fall, and attempted to counterattack with an electrical blast discharged from the blade of his sword.  
>Melanie dodged the attack easily.<p>

"The name's Batgirl." She spat in response.

That was when Queen struck, from the side. Melanie felt the impact of the staff she carried, as a massive electrical discharge coursed through the suit.  
>In any other circumstances, Melanie would have been severely injured by the electrical shock, if not killed. However, due to the improvements made to the suit a year earlier, it was completely hardened against electrical attacks.<br>Melanie felt the discharge, but it did not hurt as much as Queen expected it would.

_'Well, how about that?' _Melanie thought, repressing a grin even as she counterattacked. The first thing she did was to grab ahold of the staff, and literally tear it from Queen's grasp.

Queen gasped at the sudden reversal of fortune, and the next second Melanie slammed the spherical head of the staff into her face. As Queen rose to her feet, glaring at her young opponent, Melanie took the staff in both hands, and snapped it in half.

She saw, out of the corner of her eye, her father move to try to attack from behind, and tossed a batarang his way that sliced into his hand, eliciting a cry of pain as he dropped his weapon.  
>Then Queen moved in and struck, a viciously fast jab aimed at her face, which she narrowly avoided, countering with a fast blow to the collarbone.<p>

Queen pulled back, then spun and unleashed a lightning-fast kick that Melanie only narrowly avoided by leaping over it, landing with a dancer's grace on her feet behind Queen and cutting loose with a hard kick that connected with her lower back, sending her tumbling forward.  
>Queen rolled adroitly and came back up on her feet, and this time Melanie struck first. Queen, however, caught her first, then second punch, and then surprised Melanie with a vicious punch to the face, followed by a hard kick that doubled her over.<br>Before Melanie could break away to make her next move, Queen brought her joint fists down onto the back of Melanie's head with every ounce of strength she could, and Melanie slammed into the ground hard, grunting with pain, which was made worse when Queen kicked her in the ribs while she was still down.

Dimly, she heard the snap of lines that meant Ace had broken free.  
>"That will do, darling." She heard her father's voice.<br>Queen looking down at her with cold contempt, shrugged and turned her back on her, as the massive Ace made his way to the unconscious bodies of Jack and Ten and hoisted them both over his shoulders. King and Queen gathered up the fallen bags, and the gang slipped out to make their exit.

Standing atop the large, rectangular hover boards they always used - patterned like playing cards from the suit of Spades - the five members of the Royal Flush Gang - King, Queen, and Ace carrying Ten and Jack - rose through the skylight, when spotlights came on, illuminating them.

"This is the Gotham City Police Department. Put down your weapons now and surrender - you are completely surrounded."

Six GCPD hover cruisers encircled the building at their altitude, and they saw weapons aimed at them.

- "I don't think so." King commented cruelly, as he raised his weapon and fired an electrical discharge at the nearest cruiser that completely fried its control systems, sending it plummeting towards the rooftop, even as he used the distraction to make his getaway, closely followed by Queen and Ace.

Two cruisers peeled off to pursue, while the others focused on attempting to stop the fall of the cruiser and rescuing their comrades. With luck, they'd be able to catch them.

"Mierda." Detective Lieutenant Miguel Alcana swore in his native Spanish, which he usually did when he was especially angry or upset.  
>One cruiser shot down, two officers injured. On top of that, the Royal Flush Gang was back in town, which meant they were dealing with a burglary, and he had a pretty good idea where they'd hit.<br>There'd been a brief alert when a silent alarm was tripped in the building. On the off chance, Alcana sent a cruiser to have a look.  
>When the officer driving the cruiser, an officer he'd met once or twice named Montoya, saw the skylight, she'd called for back-up, and Alcana himself had led the raid.<p>

"Talk about a fuck-up." He grumbled. "Montoya, with me. Let's go down and see what we're dealing with."

Inside Chesterfield's Melanie dragged herself to her feet and made to pursue.  
>Wayne shot her down instantly.<br>"You're in no condition to go after them, and GCPD has units pursuing. Get back to the car, and get back here _now."_

_- _"Fine." She spat dejectedly. She engaged the suit's cloaking and flight systems, and slipped out.  
>Seconds later, she saw GCPD offices, one of whom she recognized as the one who'd given her a lift to the hospital on the day of Terry's accident.<br>She slowly made her way to a window rather than exiting through the skylight, and disappeared.

Later that night, she slipped back into her apartment, still wearing the suit, and stripped it off.  
>They'd checked over her injuries at the cave, and finding nothing broken, Wayne had dismissed her. She slipped out still wearing the suit - and now she was home.<br>Still groaning, she slipped into bed and sank into a deep sleep despite her own troubled thoughts...


End file.
